


SWAY

by dob1991



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alley Sex, Clubbing, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, My First Smut, Werewolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 14:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dob1991/pseuds/dob1991
Summary: There are two things that Stiles hates about fridays.First, how his friends insist that they go out and get drunk off their asses.Second, how his friends can't take no for an answer and leave him the fuck alone. Well, that's also one of the things he loves about fridays.The one where Derek ravages Stiles in a club, and an alley!





	SWAY

There are two things that Stiles hates about fridays. 

First, how his friends insist that they go out and get drunk off their asses.

Second, how his friends can't take no for an answer and leave him the fuck alone. Well, that's also one of the things he loves about fridays.

His friends understand him so well that they know he doesn't wanna be left alone even though he insists. It's not like he thinks that Scott or Lydia would judge him for not asking for what he wants, but after the whole "Lydia won't love me, she loves asshole Jackson" situation, Stiles feel very much inadequate on the relationship front. 

Being an 18 year-old virgin didn't help matters either.

So, here he is, at the most loudest, dirtiest, crowded club in all of Beacon Hills, Jungle, which is also a club for people of all sexual orientations. Stiles is comfortable with that, because just as he recently realized, he is bisexual. And as usual, he has his hands wrapped around a glass of whiskey (Scott still doesn't get why Stiles loves whiskey of all things, but he's probably just jealous that he can't get drunk, because he's a werewolf, duh!), and again as usual, he's all alone. Not alone alone, being surrounded by dozens of drunk teenagers can never feel alone, but he's lonely, on the inside. 

He can see Scott on the dance floor, with a beautiful Asian brunette in front of him, swaying their hips in tandem to the loud music streaming through the speakers that make his heart pound in sync with it. He's glad that Scott has finally accepted that Allison and him are over, that she wants to be with Isaac instead. 

His eyes roam the floor, until it lands on Lydia, who has her hands wrapped around Jackson's neck, their eyes locked like their looking into each other's hearts with such intensity, bleh, he shouldn't watch that anymore if he doesn't wanna throw up. His eyes quickly skim the rest of the club and lands back on the drink he's holding, the brown liquid sloshing around inside, an exact replica of his eyes.

Stiles feels like he's forgetting something. 

All the observing has made him forget that nagging feeling he's been having since he stepped inside the club, that someone's watching him. It's not exactly an uncomfortable feeling, what with all the looks he's been getting since he entered the club, but it's a feeling that makes his stomach flip.

Stiles looks up, his eyes immediately locking into a pair of beautiful green ones on the other side of the dance floor. His heartbeat immediately picks up, jack-rabbiting in his ribcage at the hungry look on the man's face, as the stranger smirks like he knows what he's doing to Stiles. 

And what a beautiful sight indeed!

Captivating green eyes that leads to perfect cheekbones and a week's worth of stubble, that makes Stiles want to lick across his chin all the way to his cheek, just to know how the roughness feels against his tongue. He can feel his dick twitch in interest at that thought. Jet black hair that is sticking up in all directions, making Stiles want to keep running his hands through it or pulling on it tightly as the man fucks him into the mattress. The stranger's nostrils flare, like he can smell Stiles' arousal all the way across the dance floor. 

At that moment Stiles realizes something. The stranger is a werewolf. Being best friends with a werewolf for three years gives you the strongest werewolf-dar (like gay-dar, but for werewolves!), and Stiles notices all of it. The nostril flaring, the change in eye-colour though Stiles just brushed it off as the strobe lights playing tricks on him, but now when he sees the red bleeding into his eyes, he knows for sure that this gorgeous excuse for a man is a werewolf. 

Confident that he's found out the man's secret, Stiles smirks in return and notices the man's pupils dilating even further and his breath coming out in short and forced puffs of air. As the man steps further into the light, Stiles can see his grey Henley stretched tightly over those sinful abs that he can see through the shirt and the black leather jacket he's wearing. His eyes rove over the stranger's body, as they slowly make their way down his stomach, and to his crotch. Stiles notices the bulge forming there from all the eye-fucking, and he swallows, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. When he looks back at the stranger's eyes, he notices him following his adam's apple bobbing and his brain short -circuits. 

Stiles feels dizzy, and not just from the whiskey he's been quietly sipping. The other man takes another step forward, forcing Stiles to place his glass on the counter and copy the man's actions. They each take steps towards each other until they're right in each other's faces in the middle of the dance floor. Their eyes smoldering into the others, hearts beating so loud, fingers twitching in nervousness and anticipation, and before Stiles can get a word out, the man spins him around, plastering himself to Stiles' back and gyrating his hips to the rhythm of the beats of the song. Stiles tenses for a minute, before the man's hands come down to wrap around his stomach and moving him however he wants to. 

Stiles relaxes immediately and covers the other man's hands with his own. 

The other man leans in and brushes his lips against Stiles' ear, taking his lobe between his teeth and softly nibbling on it, not missing the way the body pressed into him shivers.   
"I've been watching you ever since you stepped into the club. Your smell is so tantalizing and sweet, I've been holding myself back from just stuffing my nose into your neck and inhaling that perfect mix of vanilla, reeses and your man musk. Sorry, where are my manners? I'm Derek by the way. Derek Hale". 

Stiles can't stop the involuntary shiver from traveling down his body at such close contact. The man, Derek, his voice is so soft, but so demanding at the same time rumbles through his body. It does things to Stiles' stomach, heart and his cock. He can feel his blood rushing south, his dick swelling and pushing obscenely against the zipper of his jeans, just the right side of painful. 

"Um, I'm Stiles, and you're so fucking hot, dude!", Stiles breathes, and blushes after realizing he wasn't supposed to say the second part aloud. With all the gyrating, Stiles forgot to keep his brain to mouth filter in check, and now he can feel Derek's dick brushing against his cloth covered ass with every move. His breath hitches and he tightens his hold on Derek's hands. 

Derek chuckles from behind him, his hands starting to rub up and down on Stiles' stomach and moving down. Stiles feels Derek's mouth on the side of his neck, sucking and licking at his skin, trailing open mouthed kisses along the way, not at all stopping the circular motions that his hips are making against Stiles'. 

Stiles moans quietly, "Fuck Derek, please don't stop", he pleads before he winds his hand behind Derek's neck and turns his head to bring their lips together for a very passionate and bruising kiss. Derek pokes his tongue at Stiles' lower lip, who opens up and their tongues battle it out, before Derek's alpha pushes him to claim dominance and he bites down on Stiles' lower lip before pulling away and continues his assault on his neck. 

"I won't stop Stiles, I promise. God, you're so perfect. You're gonna be so good for me, aren't you? So greedy for my cock already. Look at how hard and wet you are for me", Derek whispers in Stiles' ear before dragging Stiles' shirt so that he can rub the skin beneath his navel and cards his hand through the dark and thick patch of hair that runs further down and disappears into the waistband of his jeans. 

Stiles is anticipating hands inside his boxers, when he hears Derek murmur, "Meet me out in five, at the alley behind the club, five minutes Stiles", and then he's gone, just like that. Stiles feels like all of it was a dream, but the goosebumps still left behind by the last of Derek's breath, and his raging hard on prove him otherwise, and he doesn't think twice before he flails his way through the bunch of sweaty teenagers and slams his way through the door and out in the open. 

He makes his way behind the club to the alley, shivering with the way the cold wind is blowing through him, and just as quickly as it came, it disappears as Stiles find himself pinned to the wall, a warm weight settling comfortably behind him and pushing his chest further against the wall, as Derek pushes his hard erection against Stiles' ass. Stiles mewls at the double sensations, the coldness of the wall and the heat of the body pressed against his back. He peeks over his shoulder and is met with the most beautiful sight he's ever witnessed; eyes bleeding red, claws digging painfully into his hips, sharp canines elongating as he nuzzles his way across the back of Stiles' neck, and when Stiles tries to grab him, he pushes his hands above his head on the wall, and holds him in place. 

"Derek, please....." he whines, not knowing what he's pleading for. 

"Just do something, Derek, I can't", he feels tears slipping down his cheeks at being hard for so long without release. 

Derek shushes him. 

"Baby, I've got you, I'll take care of you. I promise", he says as he brushes the tears streaming down Stiles' face. His one hand still tightly holding both of Stiles', his other hand moves below his shirt and tugs it up, and finds one nipple, to rub and pinch until its pebbled, and red with raw pain. 

Derek hooks his chin over Stiles' shoulder to see what he's doing, and the gesture seems oddly intimate for a one-night stand. Nothing about this feels like a one-time thing for Stiles. He pushes all these thoughts to the back of his mind and continues begging.

"Derek, Derek, Derek...", he chants over and over again. 

"Shh, I know I know, patience baby", he whispers as Stiles curses and huffs, indignant. 

Derek then moves his hand not holding Stiles', to the zipper of his jeans, unzipping it, and popping the button painfully slow. He pushes the jeans below the swell of his ass, and pulls it down even further where it pools around his ankles. 

Derek rubs Stiles erect cock, through the material of his boxers, slowly, torturing him with such lazy movements. He runs his hand up and down the entire length of his shaft and providing particular pressure to his cock head.

Stiles whimpers at the sensation. "Fuck Derek, you're killing me here!", he says, pushing his hips further into the warmth of the hand. 

The waistband of his boxers are being pulled down while Stiles is busy cursing Derek in his head. He gasps when he feels the cold air hit his now naked shaft, as he bucks into nothing but air. His boxers join his jeans at his ankles, when Derek fucking finally, starts fisting his cock in slow, languid movements.

"So pretty for me baby, so perfect. Just look at you, with your pants at your ankles and your cock hanging out for everyone to see, but you' re mine, NO ONE BUT MINE!", he says the last part with more force, tugging harder on Stiles' cock, that makes him buck hard into the hand around his cock and moan. 

"Yes yes, yours yours, only yours, please faster", he moans, and for the first time Derek complies. 

"Keep your hands where they are. No moving. If you move them, I won't let you cum, understood?", he says, his voice so commanding, Stiles' dick twitches and releases a blurt of precome. 

"Yes, yes understood", Stiles hurriedly tells him.

"Yes, what Stiles?", Derek questions, stopping the movement on his cock.

"Yes", Stiles gulps, "sir", he finishes quietly. 

Derek groans at the title, and rubs his rock hard cock harder against Stiles' now naked ass. 

"Good boy", he tells him and removes his hand from Stiles', reveling in the fact that Stiles hasn't moved his hands even an inch. 

He wraps his now free hand along Stiles' waist and pulls him behind, so that his ass is snug against Derek's crotch, with his hands firmly still planted on the wall, palms down. 

Derek satisfied with the position, starts stripping Stiles' cock in long and hard pulls, making Stiles constantly buck against the warmth of his fist. 

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Yes, Derek, sir I mean, faster, harder!", Stiles moans loudly and it echoes in the empty alley, but neither of them care. 

Derek can imagine how they look, Stiles bent over with his hands on the wall, his dick out and Derek holding him at his waist to control how much he squirms, and his hand moving as fast as it can. Derek groans at just the image. 

Stiles is babbling incoherent things, not that it matters, it just fuels Derek's lust. He wraps his hand that was around Stiles' waist, around his throat, making him arch his back and lean his head on Derek's shoulder. The angle gave Derek the perfect view of what he was doing, and he watches with hooded eyes as Stiles closes his eyes and moans even around the hand lightly squeezing his throat, as his cock moves in and out of Derek's fist. 

"Ahhhh, Der..eeekkk....I'm so close, please, I wanna cum, please sir!!", he begs. He chokes on his words as the pleasure gets too much to handle. 

Derek notices that Stiles' hands are clenched around his own at his neck, and he's too far gone to realize that Stiles took his hands off the wall without permission. Derek has half a mind to stop what he's doing just to punish Stiles, but he files that away for later (Later? Wasn't this a one time thing? Never, Derek thinks) and squeezes tighter around his neck, and moves his hand faster and faster, as Stiles' balls finally tighten and he lets out something akin to a scream, and releases his seed all over Derek's hand and over the wall, tears now pouring at an intensity as his vision whites out and all he can see is black spots at the edge of his eyes. 

The only noise now is both their harsh breathing, as Derek pops his finger coated with Stiles' jizz in his mouth and moaning at the bitter-sweet taste of Stiles. Derek releases his hold on Stiles' throat and entwines his hands with Stiles' on his stomach, as Stiles watches with wide eyes at Derek's action, moaning himself. 

"That was, amazing!", Stiles says, after they've caught their breaths. Stiles pulls his boxers and pants up and turns around and finally looks into the eyes of the man who has been haunting him ever since he laid eyes on him. 

"Yes, it was! It was perfect, you're perfect!" Derek says gently, the complete opposite of his behaviour during their sexual encounter. 

"Hey, what about you? You need me to get you off?", Stiles asks after remembering how to think properly again.

Derek looks sheepish, and says quietly, "I, uh, already came, when you came. It was too hot for me not to". He seems to look shy, and Stiles can't stop from feeling things, and he leans in and presses his lips to Derek's in a chaste kiss and pulls away, feeling butterflies in his stomach. 

"You came in your pants?", Stiles couldn't stop the mischievous tone to his voice and raised his eyebrows. 

"Shut up, Stiles". Derek says before leaning in and shutting up Stiles the only way he knew how. 

He moves his head to the side towards Stiles' ear, and whispers, "Don't think that we're done here. I'm not even close to done baby, and when I am, you won't be able to walk straight for weeks". 

Stiles shivers and holds tightly on to Derek's leather jacket, eyes going wide at the fact that they're gonna be spending more time together.

"Really?", he asks, the uncertainty seeping into his voice.

"Yes, Stiles, really. But before that, what do you say we go clean up at my place, and we grab a late dinner, and then I'm gonna make you scream so loud, my neighbours will know who you belong to?", he smirks, giving Stiles' cheek a peck, before intertwining their hands together. 

"Uh, like a date?", Stiles asks and seeing Derek nod, he quickly adds, "Yes, yes, I'd love to".

As they start walking towards Derek's car, Stiles smiles to himself and whispers quietly, "I love fridays", obviously Derek hears it, and a small smile appears on his face, as they both walk hand in hand, happy and sated. 

And every friday after that, Stiles and Derek spend their day fucking and cuddling, and Stiles refuses to pick up Scott's call knowing what it was about, and not in the least interested in going out, when he has everything he wants right here, right next to him.

Now, there is only one reason why Stiles loves fridays: Derek.


End file.
